


last summer

by thorvaenn



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, Hair Braiding, M/M, Post-Kings Rising, Summer, The Summer Palace spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorvaenn/pseuds/thorvaenn
Summary: This is my gift fordelaneyjanuzziin the Captive Prince Secret Santa. Sorry it's late!It is set after The Summer Palace short story and contains spoilers for that.Their horses were nearby in the shade, grazing on grass and nosing in the shallow stream that bubbled, cool and inviting, just past the trees.





	

Damen squinted up against the sunlight, smiling.

 

He could barely see Laurent above him, the rays of sunshine too bright, but he enjoyed the blurry impression of strands of Laurent's hair moving in the slight breeze.

 

He was lying on his back upon a large sheet on a sun-filled clearing, his own hair haloed around his head as Laurent walked around the clearing, picking up every type of wildflower he could find, and slowly, steadily arranged the blossoms into Damen's hair.

 

Their horses were nearby in the shade, grazing on grass and nosing in the shallow stream that bubbled, cool and inviting, just past the trees.

 

Damen still felt ridiculously pleased and proud when he recalled the bright eyed look of happiness when he had presented Laurent with his gift. He had run his palms over the bright, copper coloured fur, then burrowed his fingers into the long mane, turning to smile at Damen.

 

Still mostly blinded by the sun, Damen reached out to stroke whichever part of Laurent he could reach; it turned out to be his knee, and he moved his fingers upwards, feeling positively impish.

 

It was not all fun. Gifting Laurent a horse made him think about another, the horse he had seen him lose, made him think about why it had happened. And beyond the sanctuary of Lentos, there were two tense kingdoms, waiting for their new rulers with nervous energy buzzing everywhere.

 

But they could have this. They could have this now.

 

“You should be crowned with flowers,” Laurent said and Damen smiled at his decisive tone.

 

“I seem to already be.”

 

“By me? Yes.”

 

Damen smiled wider.

 

“What about you? I should see you crowned wearing nothing but white cotton.”

 

Laurent's voice took on a dry tone to it. “I seem to recall that has also already happened.”

 

Damen sat up.

 

He did it slowly, making sure most of the petals remained stuck to his curls. He crossed his legs and faced Laurent, getting used to the sight of him, still so pale and radiant, in the sunlight.

 

Laurent had his feet tucked beneath him, looking all of his twenty years and not a day more. Damen's chest hurt.

 

As though sensing his thoughts, Laurent offered his hand for Damen to cradle in his own, touching the soft knuckles with the pads of his thumb before lifting it to his mouth and following the same path with his lips.

 

But Damen's momentary melancholy didn't seem to strike Laurent in the same way; instead, Damen found him with face lit up with smile so bright it was almost laughter.

 

“I wish our remaining opponents knew.”

 

“Knew what?” Damen asked. Of course they had opponents. Some were feeling righteous, certain that Kastor and the Regent respectively had earned their right to rule. Some were frantic, knowing they had shown too much support to the pretenders to ever be safe again.

 

And some, and those Damen despised the most, were wary of the connection between Akielos and Vere that, inevitably, Damen and Laurent embodied.

 

“Just how far I'm willing to go,” Laurent said. “What I would do. What I will do. For this.”

 

_For you_. It was unspoken, but only because it had been said before, told to the tall marble statue of Damen's mother.

 

“You're flushed,” Damen said, cupping Laurent's hot cheek. “Come to the stream?”

 

* * *

 

It was a memory that was barely there that led him to do it.

 

After cooling in the steam, they sat in the shade and Laurent sprawled with his back to Damen's chest. His head, pillowed on Damen's shoulder, was a heavy and wonderful weight. Damen let his gaze slide over the carelessly thrown long legs, the wet fabric of Laurent's clothing clinging to his stomach. He dragged his fingertips down Laurent's arms, pleased that he could make him break out in goose-bumps despite the hot temperature.

 

And then Laurent sat up straight, the fall of his longer-than-ever hair so clearly exposed to Damen's eyes.

 

His hands moved before he knew what he was doing, burrowing into the smooth strands. It took him mere seconds to find a rhythm. One strand went above another, and again and again, until _something_ started to take shape, the simplest of braids weaving the bright yellow of Laurent's hair together.

 

When it was done, he looked around for something to bind it with, picking up a stalk of thick wild grass.

 

Laurent was quiet and still. When Damen leaned over to at least partially see the expression on his face, he found it to be one of almost reverent calm; bliss.

 

Carefully, he tore the single stalk of grass and wound it around the end of the short braid, clumsily tying it all together.

 

Laurent turned then, shuffling just so that he could look at Damen over his shoulder comfortably.

 

“Starting a new fashion?” Laurent asked.

 

“They should paint you like this,” Damen replied, almost too blunt, too honest. It was new, to be so exposed and yet so utterly unafraid of it.

 

Laurent seemed to share that opinion.

 

His mouth curved into a smile.

 

“And how else should they paint me? Naked, against the backdrop of marble and sea?”

 

“And on your new horse.”

 

They laughed, quietly, leaning towards each other. Strands of hair were already escaping the loose braid and Damen huffed, plucking a slightly squished flower from where it had fallen from his own hair and placing it behind Laurent's ear along with the uncooperative curl.

 

“Do you think,” Laurent said, “when our cultures combine, we will end up naked and fucking everywhere, or covered up and fucking nowhere?”

 

“ _Laurent_.”

 

But Damen was laughing because every mention, every off-handed comment that showed Laurent's dedication to bring their mad promise of a dream to fruition filled him with so much joy he barely knew what to do.

 

He reached out to stroke a finger over Laurent's lips, so plush and relaxed.

 

The heat was rising, even in the shade. Lazily, Damen contemplated another round of splashing in the stream, or perhaps they could mount and ride to the shore. It would take a while to get there, but the breeze would cool them slightly as they, inevitably, raced, and they would arrive breathless, sweaty and stinking, only to submerge in the shocking sea spray.

 

Damen welcomed an open-mouthed, joyful kiss from Laurent before whispering those suggestions to him.

 

In the end, Laurent chose to ride out, fearlessly exposing his skin to the sharp sunlight, laughing as he pressed his bare calves against the horse's sides and took off, leaving Damen to follow with lightness in his heart.

 

Yes, they would jump into the waves, fighting the sea together.

 

And then the world, too.

 

 

 


End file.
